


All That We Will Come to Be

by Dracoduceus



Series: All That We Were, Are, and Will Come to Be [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alien Hanzo, Alien Sex, Awkward Conversations, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Size Difference, Starship Captain McCree, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-22 03:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30032454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: In the few days it took to travel from Hanamura to theOverwatch, McCree tried to get to know his soulmate better. It turns out that there is much more that hedoesn’tknow about Hanamurans.Specifically, their biology in relation to sex.But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to learn.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Series: All That We Were, Are, and Will Come to Be [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783924
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	All That We Will Come to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt: Revisiting the All That We Were universe to explore McCree and Hanzo's first intimate moment. Including awkward conversations about sex and how humans and Hanamurans fuck.
> 
> Some aspects of this story are taken from [a very mortifying conversation I remember having in Mass Effect 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLWzmeI1QWc). Beta’ed by Kem because she’s awesome.

Some days, McCree had to marvel at his life. From a nobody found on some backwater planet, to the captain of a ship like the _Santa Fe_ , to an honored son of the Shimada Clan, his life sounded like something out of a fairy tale. 

Only, no fairy tales talked about the fact that half of your husband’s people already considered you married before you did anything as salacious as hold hands. No fairy tales talked about culture shock, or language barriers, or trying to figure out just how to make things work. 

But he tried; _they_ tried. 

The first few days on the _Santa Fe_ , spent racing back to the _Overwatch_ , were experimental. Hanzo was allergic to some of his favorite foods, so McCree learned to work around it. In time, Hanzo and Genji’s striking gold ornamentation faded from their horns, leaving them a very plain, natural brown, and McCree learned that Hanzo enjoyed it when McCree rubbed the base of his horns where they connected to his skull. Like a giant Terran feline, Hanzo would close his eyes and lean into the touch, and McCree loved nothing more than to look at the contrast of that soft, natural brown with his own dark skin tone and Hanzo’s inky black hair.

McCree naturally loved them just as much as when they looked like they were made of polished gold. 

He didn’t tell Hanzo that during the trip back to the space station, he had consulted with Nox how to work it to allow Hanzo to accompany the _Santa Fe_. Hanzo was too valuable an asset to simply let go as easily as they did McCree and his ship. Which, Nox pointed out to McCree’s chagrin, meant that to be with him, for anyone to even consider pairing them together, McCree would need to give up a lot of the freedoms that he’d afforded for himself as an independent contractor. 

The thought didn’t appeal to him very much, but neither did the thought of leaving Hanzo behind. It’s not like he _owed_ Hanzo anything—they had already discussed such things, and Hanzo understood that humans didn’t _have_ soulmates. He understood that McCree wouldn’t necessarily feel the same obligation to tie his entire life to someone he had only just met. It sucked, and it didn’t stop McCree from feeling guilty over it, but he knew that Hanzo really did understand. 

For the few Standard days that it took to get back to the _Overwatch_ , McCree spent a lot of time with Hanzo describing the ship, its command, and what daily life might look like. It was nice to spend that much time with him in a less formal setting. McCree got to see the other side of Hanzo, the one that wasn’t quite so held up on ceremony. 

Hanzo was _funny_ , sarcastic, and once they got around cultural and linguistic confusions,very good company. He became fast friends with Nox, who was aloof with nearly everyone unless they were McCree. A part of him wanted to be jealous, but there were very few people in the universe that would understand Nox and not fear him.

It would make sense that his apparent soulmate was one of those people. 

So, giving up some of his freedom as an independent contractor would be worth it even for just that. Hanzo was good company, was a good friend, and Nox had those in short supply. Very few knew what he was and McCree, no matter his feelings on Hanzo (which were overwhelmingly positive), wouldn’t take away a friend like that for Nox. 

Which is what it came down to. He wanted Hanzo along, and he wanted Hanzo along for Nox, and he wanted to spend time watching the stars from the main viewport and the aft observatory deck with Hanzo. He wanted to hear stories of Hanamura and about Hanzo’s love of astronomy, he wanted to hear every name—scientific and poetic—of every star and constellation that Hanzo knew about. He wanted to explore this Resonance with Hanzo, he wanted to understand it and him. Though he couldn’t hear it, and never would in the way that Hanzo could, he wanted to know what it was like to hear the singing of another’s soul. 

But while he couldn’t make that happen through biology, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t do it the old-fashioned way. He was far from a romantic, but he knew that love like that—romantic or otherwise—was out there. Harmony and Resonance—at least for humans—was not achieved without effort and by the stars, he wanted to be the perfect accompaniment to Hanzo’s melody. 

It surprised him how much he wanted so he promised himself, alone in his tiny little cabin, that he would put in more effort than he had ever put into anything to make sure that it happened. 

He said none of this to Hanzo, of course. Perhaps he should, but he wasn’t sure what options there would be, and how to explain his plan without making it seem like he was doing it to be thanked, to come out as the hero on the other end of it. 

The last day he was woken from his fitful sleep—dreams of exploring the stars with Hanzo and ignoring Winston’s calls to help with the _Overwatch_ which was being overrun—by Nox’s announcement that they were within visual distance of the _Overwatch_. 

He couldn’t remember moving so fast in his entire life. Nox would tease him about it later, but he didn’t care, yanking on a rumpled uniform and sprinting down the halls. He passed Siebren who gave him an absent wave and quiet greeting of “Captain” as he moved out of the way and skidded to a stop in front of the room that the brothers shared. 

Giving himself a moment to catch his breath and appear at least to act like he was a little more put together than he probably looked, McCree took a breath and pressed the door chime. 

It was Hanzo that answered, much to McCree’s relief (as Genji would have teased him) but to his surprise, Hanzo was… much less dressed than McCree had expected. What felt like miles of smooth skin was right in front of McCree’s eyes and he struggled to remember to keep his chin tipped back to look up at Hanzo’s face. 

And not down at the way his surprisingly muscular chest tapered into a trim waist and how the ripples of his abdominal muscles gave way into—

McCree cleared his suddenly-dry throat. “I apologize for the early hour,” he said, awkwardly formal as he craned his head to look up into Hanzo’s tired but amused eyes. “But Nox just informed me that we’re approaching the _Overwatch_. Just entered visual distance, actually. Thought that you’d like to see it.” 

Hanzo smiled in a human way even as he made the same Hanamuran gesture with his hand. His smile was awkward, but he was still learning and McCree had no right to find it as endearing as he did. “Come inside,” he said in Standard, sounding far too awake for the tiredness in his eyes. “I will get dressed.” 

At first, McCree wasn’t sure that Hanzo meant quite what he said, but then Hanzo stepped out of the way and gestured so McCree followed the wave of his soulmate’s hand and stepped inside. 

To his surprise, Genji’s bunk was empty, but remembered a moment later that Nox had said that the other Hanamuran on board was spending a lot of time with Siebren in Hydroponics and even more time in Medical with Baptiste. He wondered if either of them was Genji’s soulmate, or if he was just curious. In the end it didn’t matter—and one more look at too much of Hanzo’s skin was enough to chase such thoughts away, anyway. 

Hanzo walked past him, apparently comfortable with his nudity and approached the narrow lockers for his clothes. During the retrofit of the _Santa Fe_ for Hanzo and Genji, McCree and the xenobiologist on the _Overatch_ , Dr. dos Santos, had been able to find lockers that were larger than typically found in a ship the size of the _Santa Fe_. It was fortunate that they were able to do so, as Hanzo and Genji’s clothes wouldn’t have fit otherwise. 

As it was, there were other, smaller crates of clothes to be unpacked at the larger _Overwatch_ base. It meant that the small cabin, already made small by the larger-than-usual beds to accompany individuals much taller than humans, was cramped. 

So there really was no hiding as Hanzo walked, completely and unashamedly naked, to the locker and began pulling out a set of simpler clothes than McCree had seen him wear on Hanamura. While his back was turned—and feeling quite dirty for doing so—McCree let his eyes wander over Hanzo’s muscular back to the base of his tail. 

Unlike humans, Hanamurans had faint patternings of scales over their body. He couldn’t quite remember if they were technically scales at all, but they had the appearance of shimmering pieces of metal concentrated along their spines that grew more pronounced toward their tails. 

Whatever they really were, they were stunning against Hanzo’s smooth skin and McCree felt the sudden, burning urge to trace them with fingers and lips. He wanted to run his bare hands over Hanzo’s skin and scales, to look at their size difference and really _see_ it when he pressed up against Hanzo. He wanted to cradle Hanzo’s tail—and its intricate decorations—in his hands and run his hands over scales and the bony plates and strings that made up his tail harp. 

It was an intimate touch, but his fingers suddenly itched to do it. He wondered if Hanzo would let him or if it was just wishful thinking. 

The robe and loose trousers that Hanzo pulled on covered everything and McCree tried not to be too disappointed—and to look up so that Hanzo wouldn’t catch him openly ogling his naked body. When he looked up, he found that Hanzo had turned to look at him over his shoulder, his eyes crinkled with amusement. McCree flushed bright red and he sucked in a breath as Hanzo turned back around, the open front of the robe flaring with the motion. 

“ _Is there something wrong?_ ” Hanzo asked in Hanamuran.

McCree would have choked on his tongue—still nearly did—but the teasing tone in his soulmate’s voice had him making a face. “ _Mean_ ,” he said in Hanamuran. 

Hanzo made that hum-grumble sound that McCree had since learned was an informal laugh in Hanamuran culture. “ _You… are welcome to look_ ,” he said hesitantly and there was a strange kind of shyness in the cant of his ears and chin as he looked at McCree with heartstopping fondness. “ _You_ are _my soulmate_.” 

Carefully, McCree repeated that sentiment again in Hanamuran. “It feels like a dream,” he admitted. “But I… do not want to rush.” 

His soulmate’s ears flicked and he leaned down into McCree’s space, brushing his nose against McCree’s. It wasn’t quite the Hanamuran equivalent, but it had a similar kind of intimacy and affection. McCree had grown addicted to such touches and smiled, pressing into the touch and lifting a hand to cradle Hanzo’s cheek. 

“I do not want to rush, either,” Hanzo admitted in Standard. “But I am… not opposed to the idea. Of intimacy with you.” 

“I admit,” McCree said and kissed Hanzo in the human way, feeling his lips peel back in an awkward attempt at a human smile. “I’m curious. I wouldn’t know how to… approach it. But…” he cleared his throat. “We can do that later. Right now, finish getting dressed and we can go and see the _Overwatch_ from the bridge.” 

He pulled back and his breath hitched at the hungry look in Hanzo’s eyes. “ _As you say_ ,” he said in Hanamuran, his tail rattling in a way that McCree had never heard before. McCree watched as Hanzo folded the robe in front of him and tied it with a sash. It was much simpler than the many layers of expensive embroidered silk but still had an elegance that made McCree’s heart jump. 

Maybe he really did just have it bad. 

At the same time, he didn’t want this to be about lust. Perhaps it was just him being as romantic like ‘Ree kept saying he was, but he wanted to be sure of exactly what he was feeling for Hanzo—and what kind of soulmates they would be. 

Hanzo leaned in for another kiss, this time in the human fashion, and led the way to the door. “Shall we?” he asked in Standard, and McCree paused to adjust his pants before following Hanzo. 

As he watched Hanzo stare out in wonder at the _Overwatch_ , McCree thought back to those moments in Hanzo’s bunk and what it would have been like to take him up on his offer. He realized that he didn’t even have a passing idea of how to approach intimacy with Hanamurans. What was considered a faux pas? In poor taste?

Presumably—and it would be quite a presumption given that he knew absolutely nothing about their sexual biology—it wouldn’t be _too_ difficult than what he’d previously experienced. Tab A, Slot B; really, it was surprisingly common throughout the universe. More than the general idea was beyond McCree.

He supposed that, as much as he didn’t want to, he really ought to visit a xenobiologist.

* * *

Baptiste made use of a small office that was really a converted storeroom to house his limited medical supplies. The medic didn’t seem too bothered by it, or at least had given no signs that would indicate such thoughts to McCree, so he supposed that it was well enough. 

He hoped. 

The _Santa Fe_ wasn’t really _meant_ for a lot of people, so an extensive medical suite wasn’t really necessary. For this particular mission, however, McCree would rather err on the side of caution—hence Baptiste’s presence and poor attempt at office space. 

“Hello, Captain,” Baptiste said without looking up from his desk. He was bent over his tablet, scribbling down notes that McCree politely looked away from. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

There was a flower on his desk, in a small cup filled with dirt. Given that it didn’t quite look like any flower that McCree remembered from Hydroponics, he suspected that it had come from Hanamura. 

McCree cleared his throat. “I had wondered if I could speak to you about something?” 

Baptiste’s brows rose toward his hairline and he finally looked up at McCree. Then he gestured to the only other chair in the room, which was actually just a stool. It was one of the ones that they had repurposed in the hopes that they could offer the two Hanamurans on board something relatively comfortable to sit on, given that most of the chairs on the _Santa Fe_ were not built for people of their scale or those with tails. 

He supposed that he’d have a lot of retrofits to do if he wanted to keep Hanzo on board. 

Sitting down, he cleared his throat. “Can I trust that this conversation will remain in confidence?” 

Again, Baptiste’s brows rose toward his hairline and McCree wondered if there was an upper limit to how far they could rise. Then Baptiste’s mouth curled into a smile and he leaned back in his chair. “Of course, Captain,” he said. “How may I assist you?” 

McCree cleared his throat, not liking the too-knowing look in Baptiste’s eyes. “I was wondering how much you know of xenobiology.” 

“Enough to be selected for this mission,” Baptiste pointed out. “I’m not much of an authority in the subject, but it’s a hobby of mine at least. Let me guess: you have a question about _biology_.” 

There was a suggestive curl to his smile and the way that his eyebrows rose and fell. McCree almost regretted coming to ask him, but this kind of information was not something that Nox would necessarily have in his databanks. 

“You don’t respect me,” McCree said a little sourly and Baptiste laughed. 

“No, Captain, I assure you that I do,” Baptiste told him. It was probably meant to be reassuring, but he still seemed too smug for it to feel as sincere as it should. “I respect you _loads_. Which is why I am pleased that you came here to visit me instead of going off and attempting something stupid.” 

Unable to help himself, McCree snorted derisively. “Right.” 

Baptiste’s eyes glittered. “For _example_ , we do not yet know if either of you will have adverse reactions to certain… _bodily fluids_.” 

Though McCree was far from a prude or a blushing virgin, the statement still made him sit up straight and his cheeks blush. “Baptiste—”

“ _Fortunately_ ,” Baptiste said, still smiling like an asshole. “Or perhaps _unfortunately_ , we simply don’t know that much about Hanamurans to accurately understand whether it is truly an allergic reaction or a quirk of a person’s individual biology. As you can imagine, human-Hanamuran relationships are very… uncommon. Possible, yes, but extremely rare.” 

McCree scrubbed a hand down his face, warring with mortification at the turn of the conversation. He was too damn old to be having the Sex Talk with a medic on loan from the _Overwatch_ , but at the same time he knew that this was a very needed conversation. 

It seemed that Baptiste decided to take pity on him because he dug around in a small box on his desk and pushed a small case toward McCree. “From what I know of your medical records—what little Nox deemed fit to allow me to access—” there was a quirk to his lips and McCree had a feeling that Baptiste very well knew that Nox was no mere AI. Still, he did them the service of pretending that Nox was as they claimed, which was good because McCree was in no mood to lie. “—I know you _probably_ won’t have too bad of a reaction to epinephrine so in the short-term we can use that to prevent potential anaphylaxis.” 

“What do you think the odds are?” McCree asked, forcing himself to keep his voice level as he accepted the box. There was a script and a single vial of what he assumed was epinephrine. 

Baptiste shrugged. “I’m not a betting man, so I would advise against trying to figure out those odds on your own,” he said drily. “It is better to err on the side of caution, don’t you think?” 

McCree made a face. “Point taken.”

“I brought some with me in my requisitioned supplies,” Baptiste said, gesturing at the small case in front of McCree. “And the script I put inside will allow you to purchase more when we return to the _Overwatch_ . For now, it is a short-term attempt and should only be used if you believe yourself to be going into anaphylaxis. It should allow us enough time to get additional treatment to you in time—oxygen, antihistamines, and such—to prevent further reaction. In the meantime, we are approaching the _Overwatch_ and I recommend that, should you choose to pursue such a relationship with Hanzo, you get tested to make sure that you two are compatible.” 

McCree snorted. “What, like a love test?” he asked, thinking back to those old mags that his sisters used to read. All it was were celebrity scandals, absolutely terrible and mortifying sex tips, relationship quizzes and advice, and what he used to call “porn-lite”—stories about people that couldn’t possibly be real, normal people. 

Then again, _he_ was a real, normal person that was Resonant with a Hanamuran and was here embarrassing himself with a discussion with a hobbyist xenobiologist to discuss without outright discussing sex with a Hanamuran that he had met a little over a Standard week ago. So, he supposed that he didn’t really have a leg to stand on. 

Baptiste gave him an unamused look that was ruined by the way that his eyes crinkled at the corners in mirth. “I suppose that you have already proven that you are ‘love-compatible’ if you are—” and here, to McCree’s jealousy, Baptiste said the Hanamuran word for Resonant with much better pronunciation than McCree had ever been able to accomplish. “I was more talking about biological compatibility—that is, whether either of you will literally kill each other if you have sex without a condom.” 

Surprised at Baptiste’s candor, McCree sat up straight again. “Now—”

Baptiste waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t tell me,” he said dryly. “I don’t want to know. But it _is_ an option. If you choose to engage in sexual intercourse while on this trip, then please be sure to be careful. Topical reactions such as swelling and hives may occur but I highly advise against ingesting his… ah… _fluids_ without some form of protection, or without getting tested first to ensure that doing so will not result in… adverse side effects.” 

For a long moment, there was an almost awkward silence in Baptiste’s storeroom office. Then McCree cleared his throat. “Noted,” he said. “I do have… other questions.” 

“Are we about to have the Sex Talk?” Baptiste asked drily. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever had to give one. Most people know where babies come from by the time they visit me. So are you asking about Hanamuran genitalia and sexual practices?” 

Yup.

Hearing it said out loud in Baptiste’s too-amused voice made him feel like he was a teenager all over again and sneaking looks at mags and holovids that he shouldn’t have seen until he was much older. 

And curse him, though Baptiste was clearly attempting to remain professional, his amusement was far too obvious—and his preparation was damning, as if he had been waiting for this very moment with gusto. It took only a moment to open a drawer in his makeshift desk and pull out a mortifying diagram of Hanamuran biology. 

From the sketch lines combined with precisely typed labels, it was an excerpt from a medical journal or textbook that laid bare everything that lay beneath Hanamuran’s robes. For a moment he warred with an instinctive desire to look away but this _was_ why he had come here, after all. 

“I can give you two options,” Baptiste said after giving McCree a moment to look at the diagram. “I can go over this with you… or I can give you reading material.” 

McCree cleared his throat. “Reading material is fine.” 

“I will have Nox forward the information to you,” Baptiste said with that mischievous crinkle around his eyes. “Will that be all?” 

Clearing his throat, McCree handed the diagram back to Baptiste. “Yes,” he said. 

“Please let me know if you have any more questions,” Baptiste said too-sweetly and McCree snorted. 

“Like fuck I will,” he said and Baptiste laughed, standing to walk McCree to the door. 

“In all seriousness,” Baptiste said just before the door opened. “I know that you’re technically only in my care for a few more hours, but I do appreciate you coming to me before doing anything stupid. This offer does, of course, extend to the _Overwatch_ . I _am_ a medic, after all, and this _is_ a part of my job.” His expression was earnest, his smile easy even if that wicked glint made his light brown eyes dance. 

McCree sighed and thought of the _Overwatch_ . Ange was the primary doctor there and like _hell_ he was about to talk about his sex life with her. In reality, Baptiste was truly the best candidate, even if he did tease McCree a little more than he probably should.

“Thanks,” he said, and he really meant it. “I… appreciate your assistance.”

Baptiste clapped him on the shoulder and palmed the door open. “Now get out,” he said cheerfully and McCree laughed as he sauntered into the corridor. 

* * *

It was one thing to _say_ that he was going to do some reading but another matter entirely to go about doing it. 

He was far from a prude and had no kind of virginal shyness but there was something mortifying to him about reading up on the sexual practices and genitalia of a race of people that were present on his ship. It felt like voyeurism to look at the diagrams and copies of scans taken from medical journals and textbooks even though there was nothing sexual about it. 

He scrubbed a hand down his face and jumped when Nox, in a teasing voice, announced that Hanzo was outside of his room. Shoving the datapad into a nearby drawer, McCree glanced around to make sure that there was no evidence of what he had been doing, and opened the door. 

“Nox advised that we would be preparing to dock soon,” Hanzo said hesitantly in Standard, “as we are on final approach. May I come inside?” 

“Yes,” McCree said belatedly and stepped aside. “Of course.” 

He watched Hanzo stoop to let his horns pass below the lintel and twist his neck sideways to allow their spread to make it through the frame. McCree had never been one for formality, so his room was the smallest bunk closest to Nox’s core. He hadn’t regretted quite as much as he did at that moment because as soon as Hanzo was inside, it was clear that he would have to stoop to keep from hitting his horns on the ceiling and with him present, the room, already cluttered with a small chest, locker, desk, and bed was made much smaller. 

“Here,” McCree said and cleared a space on the bunk for Hanzo to sit, which he did with a contented sigh, curling his tail into his lap in an effort to take up less space. “Sorry. I was never one to stand on ceremony.” 

Hanzo smiled in both the Hanamuran way and the human way. “We would not be Resonant if you did,” he said, using the human word that they had together decided was the closest translation to the Hanamuran word. He so rarely used it that it made McCree smile. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” McCree asked, and Hanzo cocked his head to the side. “An old Standard saying,” he explained. “A polite way of asking why you’re here. ‘What is the reason that I get to enjoy your company?’” 

“Ah,” Hanzo said understandingly. “I had wondered if you were referring to earlier.” 

McCree flushed. “Ah… I had not meant to,” he admitted. 

“That is… why I am here,” Hanzo said slowly when McCree trailed off. He toyed with the strings of his tail-harp in a nervous gesture. He switched to Hanamuran. “ _I realized that we might not have much time… alone… together on the_ Overwatch _. So I wanted to… discuss this. Now._ ”

“Intimacy,” McCree said. 

Even Hanzo seemed embarrassed, putting his left hand to his nose. “Sex,” he said in Standard. “In particular.” 

McCree carefully stepped close and tugged Hanzo’s embarrassed gesture away from his face and cupped Hanzo’s cheek. Though Hanzo still seemed strangely bashful, there was a warmth in his eyes that made McCree smile as he leaned in for a quick kiss. That seemed to relax Hanzo a little bit, because he leaned into the kiss, the movement of his lips less clumsy than their first one shared on Hanamura. 

“Gonna be real honest,” McCree told Hanzo. “I have no idea… how to proceed. But I want to try with you.” A part of him was inordinately pleased that Hanzo looked so relieved in a way that McCree could easily read. “We probably don’t have much time right now,” he added reluctantly. 

Hanzo hummed and shifted his tail out of the way, tugging McCree into his large lap. “Probably not,” Hanzo agreed. “But… is this okay?” 

Leaning in, McCree pressed his nose to Hanzo’s. “You might give me ideas,” he teased. “But I like this. Sitting here with you. Kissing.” 

Hanzo hummed again, letting his big hands roam hesitantly over McCree’s back and sides. “ _I do not know what to do_ ,” he admitted in Hanamuran. “ _Will you guide me?_ ” 

“We can just stay like this,” McCree said even though his dick clearly had other ideas, jumping behind the zipper of his slacks. “We don’t need to go any farther right now.” 

“And do what?” Hanzo asked. 

McCree caught Hanzo’s lips with his own and Hanzo purred into the kiss. He kissed with everything that he had—everything that he was, just like Resonance—and McCree felt like there was lightning in his veins. 

He hadn’t been this turned on since he was a teenager, and all they were doing was kissing. Groaning like it was ripped from his lungs, he coaxed Hanzo’s lips open wider and slipped him a little tongue. 

Hanzo pulled away, concern in his eyes. “ _Are you hurt?_ ” he asked urgently in Hanamuran. “ _Have I hurt you?_ ” 

There was such open terror in his face that McCree cupped Hanzo’s face in both of his hands. “No,” he said. “It was good.”

“ _You sounded like you were in pain,_ ” Hanzo said, still clearly uneasy. 

“It was a good sound,” McCree promised and let one of his hands slide up to the base of Hanzo’s horns, stroking their roots the way he knew that Hanzo liked. “I promise.” 

Hanzo huffed, leaning his head into McCree’s firm touches, his eyes sliding shut. “ _If you are sure…_ ” 

In lieu of answering, McCree leaned close and coaxed a soft kiss out of Hanzo. His hands went to McCree’s hips, the points of his claws pressing lightly into his skin and McCree’s hips twitched, trying to rock against Hanzo’s lap. 

Again Hanzo pulled away, looking down between them and McCree realized belatedly that Hanzo had to be able to feel how hard he was against his hip and thigh and he flushed. “Sorry,” he said thickly. “It’s been a while.” 

When Hanzo looked back up at him, his pupils were enormous. “ _May I?_ ” he asked, letting a hand slide down McCree’s thigh to rest on his knee, his thumb sliding along the inside of McCree’s thigh. 

“So much for going slow,” McCree said a little ruefully, leaning back to look down his torso at Hanzo’s larger hand. He could see the bulge that his dick made against his pants and the way that the web between Hanzo’s pointer finger and thumb framed it. 

There was a peculiar expression on Hanzo’s face when McCree looked up and he swallowed thickly, trying to scrape together enough coherence to ask, “What’s wrong?” 

Hanzo tossed his head in an expression that McCree had never seen a Hanamuran use. The plain charms that still hung from the tips of his horns rattled. “It is just… strange,” he said vaguely. Then added, sounding endearingly embarrassed, “I have never seen a naked human; I do not know what to expect.” 

“I’ve never seen a naked Hanamuran before,” McCree admitted. “I don’t know how to go about this, but… we can learn together, yeah?” 

Leaning in, Hanzo pressed his nose to McCree’s and hesitantly nudged the tip of McCree’s dick with his thumb. Reluctantly, McCree pulled away to check the timer attached to his wrist. There was a message that Nox had sent five minutes previously, noting that docking with the _Overwatch_ wouldn’t occur for another hour. 

So they had time, but not a whole lot and McCree hesitated. 

“Wait,” McCree said, and Hanzo gave him such a stricken look that he couldn’t help but lean in close to give him a reassuring kiss. “We don’t have much time, and I don’t want this to be one-sided so…” 

He climbed out of Hanzo’s lap and gestured for him to stay there. McCree took a seat on the small chair by his desk and turned to face Hanzo. “This way, it’s less one-sided,” McCree explained lamely. “That is… if you want to.” 

It seemed to take Hanzo a moment to understand what he meant. When he did, his pupils expanded to fill his whole eye. His look of open hunger made McCree breathless. 

“Yes,” Hanzo said emphatically in Hanamuran. His tail rattled and McCree fumbled with his uniform. At first he was going to just open his pants, but the lower edge of his uniform shirt, which was too long on him, made it difficult to do just that; instead he tugged off his uniform shirt and undershirt, leaving his upper body bare before Hanzo’s hungry gaze.

When he looked up at his soulmate, he found that Hanzo had undone the sash around his waist and was tugging open his simple blue robe. Beneath it were the ties of a loose pair of trousers that he also undid, peeling away the layers to reveal smooth skin dotted with metallic blue and gold scales. 

Reminded that he was falling behind, McCree fumbled with his belt and the fastening of his uniform pants, nearly ripping them apart in his eagerness. He sighed as he eased the zipper down and fumbled with the button of his underwear. 

“ _Human clothing is so cumbersome,_ ” Hanzo observed in Hanamuran, his voice a throaty purr. 

McCree had no words for that, because to offer to wear Hanamuran clothes would mean ruining his pretty _expensive_ robes. Instead he tugged his dick out of his pants and gave it a slow stroke. 

As he had hoped, Hanzo’s attention shifted from McCree’s “complicated” clothing to his dick. His gaze had weight to it and McCree could feel himself twitch in the loose grasp of his hand. 

Hanzo shifted in turn, spreading his legs and peeling apart his layers to reveal more skin and a smooth lump where a human’s junk would be. A moment later, he realized that Hanzo’s legs were shiny not only because of his scales but also with moisture. A near-invisible seam of skin parted, revealing a thin, pink, tapered tip. 

Before his eyes it moved, swaying as if moved by a breeze. It was _prehensile_ , McCree realized as Hanzo reached down to let his long fingers frame the pink slit where it emerged from. As if begging for attention, the tendril extended further and pet along Hanzo’s wrist, leaving shiny trails of slick in its wake. 

McCree tried not to stare but it was hard not to. (So was his dick; he didn’t remember ever being this hard.) As he watched, the lips of Hanzo’s slit, which were beginning to blush pink and shiny from the slick slowly leaking out, split even further and another shape began to push outward. 

The tendril earlier was much smaller in comparison, perhaps as thick at the tapered end as the tip of his pinky finger, and as far as McCree could tell was probably as thick as his pinkie and ring fingers at the base. What now began to evert from Hanzo’s… _sheath?_ … was something larger. Its flared tip, mottled pink and grey, was as wide around as his favorite toy—and that was just the _tip!_

More extended from Hanzo’s sheath, and only Baptiste’s warning kept him from trying to shove it down his throat. So instead he squeezed his cock, which was already turning lurid shades of red and purple and leaking in ways that should have been embarrassing. 

Hanzo’s eyes were on him as the tendril curled around his wrist and his fingers began toying with the fleshy sides of his sheath. McCree wondered if that area was sensitive, what he felt in that tendril, how Hanamurans masturbated. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked, too far gone to feel embarrassed. 

Hanzo purred. “ _Yes_ ,” he said, the word sounding like it was forced from his lungs. “ _I do not know how we might couple, but the thought of you in my lap_ …” he trailed off.

“There is a way to do that,” McCree said as he slowly stroked his cock from base to tip. It squeezed another drop of precome from the tip, wetting his knuckles, and Hanzo’s eyes seemed to burn into his hand. His thinner tendril, which was clearly prehensile unlike his second cock, seemed just as interested, twisting forward as if reaching for McCree. 

Suddenly, he wondered if he would feel it prodding and pressing and stroking his lips as they were stretched around Hanzo’s cock, or if he would feel it petting his balls, curling around his dick, or wiggling in him when Hanzo fucked him into the cot. His cock jumped in his hand and his breath hitched. The burning in his lower belly turned molten hot. 

“I’m close,” McCree gasped, watching that slender tendril wobble in the air as if trying to get even closer. Would it paint his own come—or Hanzo’s—over his skin? 

_Stars_ , he hoped that he wasn’t allergic because he wanted to see those lines. He wanted to see the designs etched into his skin, far more intimate than soulmate embroideries in fancy robes. Something that was painted into his skin that, even if they were washed off, would linger in McCree’s memory in the most primal way. 

He choked on his own tongue and he struggled to keep from staining his clothes or Hanzo’s as he came. As it was, some dribbled on his pants (it was fine, he had more) and splattered uselessly on the ground and Hanzo’s eyes, swallowed entirely by pupils darted to the stains and puddles forming. 

As McCree watched, blood rushing in his ears, as the reaching tendril twisted around Hanzo’s cock as if stroking it; Hanzo’s free hand moved to his wide cock, milking it in a way that was so similar to the way McCree was still absently stroking his own dick. His other hand pressed against the lips of his sheath, collecting the slick and rubbing it into his skin. 

Hanzo cursed suddenly, the exact words unfamiliar to McCree but the meaning was clear all the same. He came, his eyes squeezed shut and his head tipped back so that the tips of his horns scraped against the wall beside McCree’s cot. At least he was careful about it and nothing dripped on his clothes; it all joined the puddle between them. 

They were both breathing hard, the sound echoing in McCree’s small cabin as they each struggled to catch their breath. 

“ _I heard it,_ ” Hanzo said softly in Hanamuran and McCree watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. “ _I heard you. I heard all-that-you-were-are-will-be singing._ ”

McCree watched Hanzo peek down at him almost shyly. “Is that normal?” he asked. 

“ _No,_ ” Hanzo replied. “ _I have never heard of such a thing._ ”

Carefully, McCree tucked his dick back into his clothes and grimaced at the drops staining his slacks. He stood and took them off, tossing them over their combined mess on the ground to deal with later. Dressed in just a shirt and his underwear, McCree crossed the short distance between them and leaned into kiss Hanzo who purred and leaned forward to return the kiss. 

He pulled away—to Hanzo’s vocal frustration—and returned with a damp washcloth which he offered to Hanzo. He watched Hanzo clean himself off, wiping briskly over the edges of his sheath, the wiggling tendril, and his softening cock that was already beginning to deflate into his sheath once more. 

McCree leaned in for another kiss as Hanzo cleaned up and laughed as Hanzo pulled him into his lap and lay back in McCree’s bed. The cot was comically too small for Hanzo so he curled up as much as he was able to.

“I’ll get us a bigger bed,” McCree said drowsily, post-coital exhaustion making his eyes heavy. “Later.”

“ _Later_ ,” Hanzo agreed with a note of sadness in his voice. “ _For now, we have each other_.” 

_I will speak to Winston_ , McCree promised himself as he curled up against Hanzo’s side. _I_ will _convince him to let me stay by your side. Even if I need to join Overwatch to do it_. 

Hanzo hummed as McCree settled into his side, resting his cheek on Hanzo’s chest and shoulder. “ _Will Nox wake us for docking with the_ Overwatch?” 

“I hope,” McCree said. “Naptime.” 

A part of him was pleased that Hanzo seemed just as tired, falling into a light sleep despite his contorted position. He just hoped that Hanzo’s back wouldn’t hurt him later. Thoughts of _later_ could wait; instead, he let his eyes close and let himself fall asleep in the loose embrace of his soulmate. 

* * *

Nox did not, in fact wake them up. 

They had been docked for two hours by the time they woke up. Despite Hanzo’s obvious mortification that he had been so late, he still gave McCree a shy, happy smile and curled his tail around McCree’s waist in the way that Hanamuran lovers did. 

“Hey, big guy,” McCree said to Winston as Hanzo joined Genji in moving into their quarters on the _Overwatch_. “You got a sec?”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to also come and visit me on Twitter at [Dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus).
> 
> ~DC


End file.
